I’ve been feeling
Somewhat of a castaway
I’m still waiting on a message
From bob.
Got some mojo that I bought on the corner
I’ve been playing on a dead mans hand.
People all say, I seem familiar
‘Preacher won’t you tell me your name’
But I’ve not been feeling myself of late
Don’t think I can stand the change.
When you wake up on your desert island
Morning falling
Through your hands
Hold them up to push away the sunlight
It’s all washed clean when it’s written in sand.
One original cheeseburger for Jesus,
A submarine in my life.
Surface for barely a moment, break the waves of a world you despise.
Be yourself, no one’s paying attention.
Haven’t seen any here in a while.
Loneliness is just a form of protection,
And all the castaways live in exile.
(c) 2024-25 Barry/Stormcellar